


A Little at a Time

by youcaptveitme



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-29 06:15:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10848147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcaptveitme/pseuds/youcaptveitme
Summary: Sirius Black is the heir to the most coveted throne in all of Scotland, and yet, he has a secret. Can Sirius keep his secret throughout a revolution and a new found love, or will his world come crashing down?





	1. Wastelands

There is a wall that stands in Scotland, and beyond the wall lies an empire built on magic. There is a stone wall that stands in the highlands of Scotland, and beyond the wall lies a brilliant empire built on thousands of years worth of magic. There is an ivy-covered stone wall that stands on the Isle of Skye, in the highlands of Scotland, and beyond the wall lies a decaying, crumbling, fractured empire built on lies and manipulation. This is Draíochtíon, the kingdom of the noble and most ancient house of Black, an empire which stretches thousands of years to the very root of magic. But nobility is power, and power is a noose.  
The Black family stood for one thing, and one thing only: purity. Those who were not of magical purity could never be secure in the hierarchy of Draíoctíon, and were considered to be useless and weak. Pure bloods were praised, half-bloods were unequal, and muggle borns were the scum of the street. Beasts, however, were the gladiators. Treated like slaves, starved for love and freedom, the beasts fought in the ring day in and day out, their pain and suffering a spectacle for those seeking cathartic release. The Black family craved power, and having complete control over the beasts brought this to them. But things had not been quite right in the empire for a very long time. Tension was high, disobedience was plenty, and werewolves sparked an uprising, poisoning the empire from the outside in. This is not the story of the fall of an empire. This is the story of a slave, a young leader, and the desire to do what is good and not necessarily what is right. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Sirius Black was a young man the age of twenty, and was not often where he was supposed to be. His mischievous personality was quite naturally the cause of this, and he often found himself opposite his screaming parents, though this brought him annoyance rather than guilt. On this particular day, however, Sirius would only be opposite expressions of utter shock. 

It was a day in mid-August, and the air was abnormally hot for dreary Scotland. The citizens of Draíochtíon found themselves loping about the city, grappling with the heat and the pressing matter of a city-wide assembly held by the royal family that humid afternoon. Meanwhile, Walburga Black, current matriarch of the Black family, was darting about the royal castle in search of her eldest son. 

“Sirius!” Walburga bellowed, her dark, greying hair pinned neatly to her head. She took heavy steps as she flung herself around corners, desperate for the appearance of her son, who was to be presented with an honor that afternoon. 

“Where is that boy?” she muttered to herself. Finally, Walburga reached a set of grand black doors, the letter S carved into each door with gold lettering. She screwed up her pointed face, turned the golden handle, and wrenched the door open, her expression immediately melting into shock. There, in the middle of an ornate four-poster bed, was Sirius, clearly in the middle of fucking another man. 

“Sirius Black!” Walburga shouted, letting the bedroom door slam against the stone wall. 

“Merlin’s fucking bollocks,” Sirius swore, immediately jumping away from the other man and covering his waist. Walburga sighed as Sirius’ partner, a tall, broad man with blonde hair, darted into a room opposite Sirius’. 

“Language, Sirius,” Walburga hissed. Sirius craned his neck in disbelief. 

“That’s all you have to say, mother? After you’ve just seen me fucking Ewan from the kitchens?” 

Walburga pinched the bridge of her nose, crossing her arms over a set of emerald green robes and letting out a prolonged sigh. 

“Drawing room, now,” she finally spoke, her voice cold and sharp against the heavy air. Sirius nodded in understanding and scoffed, throwing himself back onto the mattress as his mother shut the door. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You WHAT?” Orion Black, the patriarch of the family, bellowed. The immediate members of the Black family were sat around a long black table in a lavishly decorated drawing room, and the news of Sirius’ endeavors had just been broken. 

“I like men,” Sirius repeated, shrugging. 

“You have an arranged marriage to Bellatrix!” Orion said sharply. Sirius rolled his eyes and sighed, running his hands through his shoulder length black hair. 

“I don’t care, father, I’m gay.” 

“No, this absolutely won’t do.” 

“Well, it’s going to have to do, isn’t it?” 

“You will marry Bellatrix and this is final!” 

Sirius and his father both stood, Sirius looming over Orion by a few inches, arms folded across his chest in defiance. 

“I think I have an idea,” Regulus, the youngest of the family, spoke up. 

“Oh yeah? What is it, Reg?” Sirius asked, annoyance dripping from his voice like venom. 

“What if you agree to marry Bellatrix, father an heir, and have a....relationship on the side?” Regulus suggested quietly. 

“No, Reg, the whole point is that I don’t want to marry Bellatrix!” Sirius argued. 

“Actually,” decided Orion, “that just might work.” 

There is a stone wall that stands in Scotland, and beyond that wall lies a mother, a father, a son, a brother, a beast, and an empire that is about to be under siege.


	2. Spark

Revolution was sparked like the flame from a lighter. In the years leading up to Sirius’ twentieth birthday, the beasts had been gaining in numbers, and gaining in knowledge. They were called werewolves, and though they may have had the appearance of average Draíochtíon citizens, they were plagued by a heavy secret. Every full moon, each werewolf would shed their human skin and become a monster capable of terrible things. It was this which drove the beasts from the city, and it was this which would spark a revolution. You see, werewolves were not trusted in Draíochtíon. Even if a beast could leave for the full moon and return to everyday life a week later, they were considered to be unequal and worthless in society, and therefore could not hold a job or maintain a normal citizen’s life. Thus, revolution was sparked, and when fire catches, a city will burn. 

“Who is this intruder?” Romulus, the leader of the werewolf rebellion, growled. A new recruit had entered the revolution headquarters, a small village much like a war camp and concealed by a carefully produced disallusion charm. Though werewolves had been stripped of their rights, they were not yet stripped of their magic. 

“Must be a new recruit,” Coinneach, the self-declared secretary of war, stated. In his past life, Coinneach had been fantastically handsome and well-learned. In this life, he held his good looks, but they were marred by various scars and a wide collection of bruises of all different colors. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Remus, the right-hand man, said quietly. Romulus shot him a pointed look. 

“He looks too well-dressed to be like us,” Remus declared. It was well-known that anyone who showed even the slightest sign of being a werewolf was regarded with utter distaste, and forbidden to lead an equal life among the magical. 

“You’re right, we must watch him carefully,” Romulus agreed. Coinneach took a step toward the new recruit, folding his arms over his chest menacingly. 

“Who are you, and where have you come from?” he demanded, a snarl forming on his handsome face. 

“My name is Fe--er, Fraser,” the now-named recruit nodded, extending his hand out for Coinneach to shake. The secretary did not move his arms from his chest, and Fraser dropped his hand in silence. 

“Where have you come from?” Coinneach repeated. 

“I’ve come from the city, and I am joining you because the Black family needs to be overthrown,” Fraser stated, pointing to the scars on his cheek. 

“I received these lashes from Orion Black himself recently,” he declared. Coinneach nodded his head, and extended a hand. 

“Welcome to the pack,” he said, shaking Fraser’s hand firmly. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

“I’m still not sure about him,” Remus said some time later, when the trio was alone in their tent. They had curled around a fire, and were sipping wantonly on mulled mead. Romulus sighed, and swirled the mead around in his glass. 

“Remus, we do not trust anyone, and I am not suggesting we start now,” the leader agreed. 

“There’s just something off about him, I can’t quite place my finger on it.” 

“We will watch him closely, but I urge you not to waste all of your energy on one individual. We strive towards a larger goal.” 

“I know, you’re right,” Remus finally sighed dejectedly. 

“There is a meeting tomorrow night, and the recruit will be there. I expect you will keep your eyes trained on his behavior?” Romulus encouraged, draining the last of his mead and swallowing heavily. 

“Yes, of course,” Remus nodded and his friends returned the gesture, slipping out of the tent and leaving Remus alone in the warm glow of the fire. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Black castle was too drenched in the light of flames, the small family perched in overstuffed leather sofas in front of a large ornate fireplace. News of the growing werewolf rebellion had spread to the city, and the royal family was not pleased. 

“You sent the beast?” Walburga Black asked her husband, hand clutching a carafe of blood red wine. 

“Hm? Fenrir? Oh, yes,” Orion dismissed his wife’s question with a casual wave of his hand. He had spent the better part of an hour pacing across the spotless green and black rug, and could not be bothered to stop, too engulfed in thought. 

“Have you chosen a suitor, Sirius?” Walburga asked instead, turning her attention to her eldest son. 

“No, mother,” Sirius sighed, lifting his head from where it had been resting on the arm of his couch. 

“Well, Sirius, you are due to wed Bellatrix in a fortnight.” 

“Je m’en fous,” Sirius spat. 

“Do not speak in that disgusting language to me,” Walburga hissed. 

“Careful, mother, you’ll break your glass,” Sirius scoffed, gesturing to where Walburga was indeed clutching her carafe tightly. 

“You must choose, Sirius,” she finally sighed, rising from her seat and gliding out of the room, black robes swinging behind her like the true picture of royalty. 

“Mother!” Sirius called, jumping up from the sofa and running to the door which Walburga had just disappeared through. 

“What is it?” Walburga demanded, stopping in her tracks to look at her son. For a moment, Sirius thought he could see a sliver of worry in her eyes, but she blinked and her natural cold state returned. 

“Can I marry James?” Sirius grinned. Walburga rolled her eyes and turned on her heel, disappearing down the hallway. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The previous week had come to an end, and Romulus now stood before several hundred werewolves, conducting a meeting. Flanked by his two right-hand men, the leader seemed unstoppable, a force to be reckoned with. 

“We are growing in numbers,” the leader announced, his crisp voice echoing across the vast forest floor. A cheer rose from the crowd, led by Fraser, the new recruit. 

“This means that we must put our plans into effect,” Coinneach nodded solemnly, “the rebellion begins with infiltration. Their government, their shops, their schools, they all must be under our control.” 

“We begin September 2nd, the day after the children are sent to school,” Remus stated. 

“Wouldn’t that mean we can’t turn children?” a voice shouted from the crowd. Remus sighed. 

“Yes, Raghall, but the point is to gain our rights back, not to turn the society into a wasteland.” At this moment, out of the corner of his eye, Remus noticed Fraser slip away from the crowd and take off into a run.   
“Romulus,” he whispered urgently, “I think we have a problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! I wrote this in class today, so sorry it's a bit short, but look for an update later tonight! Thank you for your wonderful comments, don't forget to like it if you like it, if you like! Once again, all credit goes to TT at asktheboywholived.tumblr.com. peace out homeskillets - S


	3. Turn

Fraser disappeared from the pack quickly, with no second glance. His strange behavior worried Remus, who still had no respect or allegiance for the new recruit. As Fraser ran, Remus thought he caught a glimmer of a sneer on the man’s face, a look of pure rebellion. 

“I think we have a problem,” Remus whispered to Romulus over the sound of chatter from the audience. 

“What is it, Remus?” Romulus asked, directing all of his attention towards the younger man.

“Fraser just ran,” he said, gesturing towards the audience with a look of concern. Romulus rubbed his face, as if trying to work out what he should do. Just as he was about to open his mouth to speak, a young recruit named Elin interrupted. 

“Was that Fenrir Greyback?” she asked excitedly. 

“Fuck, we really have a problem,” Remus sighed, “Elin, you need to leave.” The man steered Elin in the direction of Coinneach, who ushered her to a tent. 

“Fenrir Greyback is a pawn of the castle,” Romulus announced. 

“I know, he’s a spy, Romulus. He’s here to spy on us and take information to the castle,” Remus stated, quickly figuring out the puzzle. 

“Well fuck me,” Romulus shouted angrily, earning several weird looks from confused bystanders. He ran his fingers through his hair frustratedly, trying to work out a solution to a quickly growing problem. 

“Romulus, they’re going to come after us,” Remus finally declared, working out the gravity of the situation. 

“I know, I know. We need to get an attack in order. The revolution starts now, and it starts here.” Romulus agreed. The leader turned away from Remus at that moment, retreating to his tent to draw up plans, no doubt. In a flash of frustration, Remus darted towards the Scavaig River, hoping to find solitude. 

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite little revolutionary,” a voice drawled. Remus whipped around in surprise, suddenly finding himself face-to-face with Fenrir Greyback, the city’s favorite werewolf gladiator and spy. 

“Fuck you,” Remus spat, “we’re like you, Greyback. We’re like you, and you go and turn on us.” Fenrir stepped towards Remus, gripping a black rope between his rough hands. 

“You’re like me, yes, but if you haven’t noticed, we aren’t exactly treated well. And if you were smart, Remus, you would know that your little rebellion is going to fail, and you’re going to ruin whatever glimmer of a future we werewolves could ever hope to have,” Fenrir growled. 

“You’re a slave!” Remus shouted, anger intensifying, “don’t you want to be free of that?” 

“I won’t be after today,” Fenrir laughed, a disgusting, poisonous sound. 

“What are you on about…” Remus asked, becoming increasingly more wary by the second. As if on cue, a castle guard apparated in front of Remus, seizing his hands so that Fenrir could wrap the black rope around his wrists. 

“Not so free anymore, are you, Remus?” Fenrir spat, grabbing Remus’ wrists in order to push him out of the forest. 

“Take a look!” Fenrir shouted as the pair reached the centre of the camp, “this is what happens when you rebel!” The werewolf forced Remus in front of him, a symbol of despair. Remus’ breath was now coming in short spurts, his heart beating heavily in panic. Everywhere he looked, there was blood. Crimson decorated the earth like paint, and desperate screams permeated the air like a sort of violent music. 

“LET ME GO!” Remus begged, anger and disgust coiling around his chest like a snake. Fenrir laughed and pulled the ropes tighter around Remus’ wrists. 

“Remus!” Romulus called from somewhere in the crowd. Remus craned his head and caught sight of the leader tied down to a wooden plank, which was being carried by a group of king’s men. 

“This isn’t over!” Remus shouted back, as Romulus was carried away. 

“Sure,” crooned Fenrir, “whatever you say.” Remus spat in the werewolf’s face, and caught a glimpse of sunlight streaming through the forest canopy, a strange beauty among the madness, before blacking out. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Throbbing. All that Remus could feel was throbbing. His head pounded in aggravation, his eyes burned as though someone had poured chemicals down his face, and his throat was raw from yelling. All around him, Remus could hear the cheers of city people, the sound like a drum in his sore ears. 

“Kill the beast!” a woman screamed. At this, Remus snapped his head up, desperately in search of an answer. As his eyes moved to the city center, he saw the source of the city people’s anger. Romulus knelt in the middle of the city, his head hung and his wrists bound behind his back with the same horrible black rope that still bound Remus. 

“Three, two…” a hooded figure stood over Romulus, wielding a sword. In a second, Remus caught his friend’s line of sight, and Romulus mouthed, “don’t stop.” 

“One!” the hooded figure cried. 

“NO!” shouted Remus desperately, straining against his bindings with every ounce of energy he could possibly muster. It was no use, however, and the sword swung down mightily, beheading Romulus with a singular clean motion. No sound left the leader’s mouth, no grimace shook his body. All that was left of Romulus was a look of defeat which ghosted his face, even in death.   
Remus sank to the ground heavily, feeling the weight of events press into his shoulders like cinderblocks. He barely noticed a guard drag him away, and could not register the pain of flesh scraping stone. The tables had turned, and Remus was suddenly very lost. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dark clouds hung eerily over the city of Draíochtíon, a cool wind occasionally blowing through. The air was chilly and damp, this weather quite characteristic of the Isle. It was battle day, and Sirius Black was sat in the wooden stands of the gladiator arena, his head in his hands. Sirius had never enjoyed battles; they did not succeed in bringing him cathartic release like the rest of the city. Instead, Sirius always left feeling depressed and utterly horrified at the level to which the wizarding race had sunk. This particular day was no different, especially since Sirius had the knowledge that he was to marry his cousin, Bellatrix, in just a fortnight. The thought was enough to make him hurl the scotch he had drunk all over the front row. 

“Ladies and gentlemen! Wizards and witches! Muggles and...oh, who am I kidding?” the announcer began, earning a laugh from the haughty wizard population. Sirius rolled his eyes in disgust. 

“Welcome to today’s battle!” Cheers arose from the stands, and Sirius heard his own family clapping in excitement. 

“Without further ado, please welcome to the arena, the beasts! I give to you, Remus and Coinneach!” The crowd cheered again, as two metal gates were lifted, revealing the gladiators. 

Remus and Coinneach stepped into the arena, each scantily clad and wielding swords. As the gladiators drew closer to the center of the pit, Sirius began to become more and more interested. From his point of view, Remus looked to be a god. The man boasted well-defined arms, legs, and chest, scars to boot, and a face that could be described as nothing less than beautiful. Sirius was absolutely entranced.   
“Fight! Fight! Fight!” the audience shouted with glee as the two gladiators circled each other. Remus seemed to be speaking urgently to Coinneach, who wore an expression of exhaustion and anger. As Sirius had learned, this was not Coinneach’s first time in the pit. He had spent months fighting before the rebellion, and was well seasoned. Remus, however, was not. In a moment of weakness, Coinneach lunged at Remus, his sword slashing a quick cut in the man’s arm. For a second, Remus looked surprised, but his surprise quickly faded to anger, and he took off, racing around the arena. Coinneach followed, brandishing his sword with an incredible determination. He was fast, but Remus was faster, darting between objects and quickly scaling the rock formation towards the edge of the arena.   
Sirius grimaced as Coinneach climbed the rock, immediately aiming his sword to kill Remus. Luckily, Remus moved quickly, jumping from the rock and sprinting to the arena wall that Sirius was currently seated behind. Remus scaled the wall with ease, and within seconds, Sirius found himself face-to-face with a gladiator. 

“Hello there,” Sirius greeted cheekily, mainly out of absolute surprise. Remus simply sneered and ran, manoeuvering his way through the crowd before the guards caught up to him, seizing his arms and securing them with a black rope. 

“Mother, I think I’ve found my man,” Sirius announced, turning to Walburga. 

“Him? The slave?” Walburga cried dejectedly. Sirius simply grinned, standing up to leave the show. 

“What a turn of events, right?” he chuckled, relishing in the pained expression upon his mother’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! As promised, here's another chapter! I don't know about you, but it's exam week for me, and this fic is a WELCOME distraction, lol. Anyway, creds to TT, go check out asktheboywholived.tumblr.com, you know the drill. Please feel free to like it if you like it, if you like, and leave me some comments! I'd love to hear from all of you! <3 peace out homeskillets - S


	4. Matter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm posting the notes at the beginning of the chapter today because I switched tenses, and I felt like you should know that. So yes, it was intentional. Anywayyy, I'm almost finished reading a fanfiction called "Turn," and guys. READ IT. I didn't ship Drarry (and I still don't really want to), but "Turn" is so fantastic that I find myself shipping Drarry. IT'S SO GOOD. I'll be updating ALAAT tomorrow night, so look out for that, and I promise there will be smut very soon! Lol. 
> 
> OKAY all credits to TT, go follow asktheboywholived.tumblr.com, please like it if you like it, if you like! peace out homeskillets - S

Light flickers against rough stone walls as Sirius sneaks down to the dungeons late that night, expertly navigating the winding passageways. As a child, Sirius liked nothing better than to spend his time down here, where the ceilings hang low, the walls are always slightly damp, and the smell of earth lingers constantly. Sirius feels more grounded down here. Now, however, he is simply in search of a certain gladiator. 

“Remus?” Sirius calls, voice cracking against the stone like a whip. His heart is beating heavily in his chest, the rhythm prominent and secure. He lets the cold air wash over his face and calm his shaking limbs, and waits for a response from the man he seeks. 

“Remus?” Sirius tries again, taking several steps further into the dungeon. 

“Oi, you lookin’ for someone?” a voice calls from inside a cell. Sirius’ heart clenches painfully as he stops in front of the cell, as the occupant appears to be underfed and extremely disgruntled. My family did this, he thinks, and he feels even further from the clan than he ever had before. 

“Mate, who’re yeh lookin’ for?” the prisoner calls again, rising from his place on the grimy floor to properly look at Sirius. 

“Ah, yer the king’s kid, ain’t yeh?” the man questions, wrapping both dirty hands around the black metal bars of his cell. From this new close proximity, Sirius can see every scar and cut, both old and new, that decorates the man’s face. The prisoner’s eyes are bloodshot, and he holds his neck at a strange angle that makes Sirius wonder if he had been in the arena that day. 

“Er, yeah, I-I am. But I’m looking for someone,” Sirius finally chokes out, feeling utterly powerless under the prisoner’s gaze. “Do you know someone by the name of Remus?” 

At this name, the prisoner blinks heavily, and smiles, a wise, secretive smile, as if he knows everything about Sirius without asking for more than a name. 

“Yeh, I know Remus. Who’s askin’?” he asks, voice raspy. 

“I am,” Sirius states, feeling suddenly more powerful than he had merely seconds ago. The prisoner does not say a word for what seems like a very long time, but is certainly only seconds. Sirius feels the air around his nose grow somehow more stale, and he presses his clammy hands far into his pockets, which he suddenly remembers are made of the finest material in Scotland. Sirius rips his hands away then, and presses them instead into the damp stone wall, craving the feeling of being grounded. 

“He’s all the way down, on the right,” the prisoner finally mutters, retreating back into the shadow of his cell. Sirius releases a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding, and whispers his thanks to the prisoner, darting down the hallway to Remus’ cell. As he reaches it, he is suddenly very aware of the fact that he has absolutely no idea what to say. What can he say in this situation? “Hello, I want you to fuck me?” The idea is ludicrous, and Sirius finds himself laughing in spite of himself. 

“Something funny?” a smooth voice asks from somewhere in the shadows. Sirius whips around quickly, and suddenly finds himself face-to-face with Remus. 

“No, nothing,” he breathes, stepping closer to Remus’ cell. 

“Can I help you?” the werewolf asks, eyebrows raising in suspicion. He recognizes Sirius as a member of the royal family immediately, and begins to grow wary. 

“I was looking for you, actually,” Sirius says, reaching for a set of keys that have been shoved in his pocket since he came down to the dungeons. 

“What are you doing?” Remus asks, voice growing shaky. He does not know much about the royal family, but he knows he ought not to trust them, and he does not plan on starting now. Sirius grapples with his words for a few moments, before declaring, “I need a favor.” Remus’ eyes widen in suspicion, and he folds his arms across his chest in defense. 

“Please just come with me,” Sirius sighs, placing the key into the lock and pulling the cell door open. Remus lets out a sigh of defeat, and follows Sirius’ wave of his arm as he steps out of the cell. Without saying a word, the pair shuffles their way through the dungeon corridors, ignoring the jealous stares of other prisoners. As they ascend into the bright, vast castle hallway, Remus tenses up, clearly anticipating something awful. Sirius just sends him a glance that says “don’t worry,” and keeps walking, eager to get away from the dungeon. 

“Why are you trusting me?” Remus asks eventually, eyebrows knitted together in concentration. Sirius shrugs. 

“I want to believe you’re a good person,” he decides, looking at Remus for a split second before continuing on his way. He swore he almost saw a shadow of a smile flicker across Remus’s face, and Sirius laughs in spite of himself.   
As the pair traverses through the castle, Remus catches himself staring at everything. The walls are ornately decorated, draped in heavy tapestries depicting medieval scenes, flickering lamps carved from gold, and stunning depictions of the Black family crest. After what seems like ages, Remus is suddenly stopped by Sirius, and now stares at a set of double doors, both carved with the letter S. 

“Please come in,” Sirius states simply, opening a door and gesturing Remus inside. Remus enters cautiously, expecting a room just as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, but he is pleasantly surprised upon inspection. It seems as though Sirius has chosen to defy his parents, as nearly every surface of the room is draped in Gryffindor colors, Sirius’ Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry colors. Remus never had the chance to attend Hogwarts, as the school was not accepting of werewolves. Now, he feels a twinge of jealousy tug at his heart as he glances around the room, noticing every one of Sirius’ drawings and newspaper clippings that cover the walls. 

“I’m assuming you expect me to sleep with you, then,” Remus chirps suddenly, mouth going dry as he notices a particularly...nude drawing of two men that hangs quite close to Sirius’ bed. Sirius chokes for a moment, then shrugs nonchalantly. 

“Well, I wouldn’t object, but no, I actually would like to get to know you,” he appeases, “oh! I almost forgot, would you like tea? I can get us some tea!” 

The corners of Remus’ lips twitch up at Sirius’ generous outburst; he hadn’t expected the son of a king to be so boisterous and kind. 

“I’d love that,” Remus nods, playing with the deep red tassels on the edge of Sirius’ heavy quilt. Sirius beams, snapping his fingers as a house elf appears. 

“I figured you’d be hungry, the food they give you in the dungeons must be pure shit,” he states, turning to the house elf. 

“Would master like tea?” the elf asks innocently, bowing deeply in front of Sirius. 

“Yes, please, Willoughby,” Sirius grins, bowing in return. Willoughby absolutely beams, shouting, “right away, Master Sirius” with such enthusiasm that Remus is quite surprised the little elf did not fall over, and disappears. It is in this moment that Remus decides to like Sirius Black. 

“You know, I almost expected you to fight me,” Sirius admits, gesturing Remus over to the bed, where he has already begun to make himself comfortable. Remus laughs at this, sitting cautiously on the edge of the mattress. Although he wants to like Sirius, he doesn’t quite trust the man yet. 

“I’m a werewolf, not a prick,” Remus says, picking up a tassel once more. Sirius eyes him closely, watching the way Remus’ hands move over the fabric with care. 

“I never thought you would be,” Sirius shrugs, “that’s why I’m so interested in you. I saw the way you refused to hurt Coinneach, you know.” 

“He’s one of my best friends, I wouldn’t have dreamed of it.” 

“I can tell you’re a good person, Remus.” 

“Well, you don’t seem so bad yourself, Black,” Remus finally nods, pulling himself all the way onto the bed. Seconds later, Willoughby reappears at the foot of the bed with a loud crack, weighed down by a heavy gold platter of tea, biscuits, and two steaming bowls of Scottish stew. Immediately, Sirius stands to help the elf, carefully taking the platter from Willoughby’s shaking arms and placing it on the bed. 

“Thank you very much, Willoughby,” Sirius smiles, shaking the elf’s hand and handing him several silver sickles. 

“Master Sirius is ever so welcome!” Willoughby beams, bowing deeply. Sirius, once again, bows in return, and Willoughby is gone. 

“Why do you treat your house elves so well?” ponders Remus, “I thought royals were supposed to be vicious to the Help.” Sirius shakes his head in disappointment then, pouring tea into a cup for Remus and passing it along to the tall man on the opposite side of his bed. 

“Just because we employ them doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be respectful,” Sirius says simply, handing a bowl of stew over to Remus, who is once again smiling at this strange new figure in his life. 

“Good on you,” he whispers, shoving stew into his mouth. Immediately, the intense flavors of red wine, beef, and vegetables fills his mouth, bringing warmth and a feeling of comfort to Remus’ body. 

“Merlin, this is incredible,” he declares, “thank you.” Sirius laughs, a happy sound, and shrugs. 

“See? House elves must deserve respect if they can cook like this,” he agrees. 

“Right you are,” Remus nods, spooning more stew into his open mouth. 

“Anyway, house elves are sort of like babysitters when your parents don’t care much to take care of you as a child,” Sirius shrugs. Remus looks over at Sirius at this, sympathy evident in his expression. Sirius can feel his heart flutter, but he isn’t quite sure of why. 

“What were your parents like?” he asks suddenly. Remus shrugs, seemingly lost in thought for a moment. 

“They were fantastic people,” he says finally, gripping his teacup with force, “I had the best childhood until I was bitten.” Sirius feels as though he has been drenched with ice water; he had forgotten that Remus was a werewolf. 

“Did they abandon you?” he wonders quietly, reaching for Remus’ free hand and grasping it between his. Remus’ hand is warm, large, and rough, and Sirius is suddenly very nervous. 

“No, it just got...hard,” Remus states, “anyway, it doesn’t matter now.” His eyes are searching, and he drops his gaze to his now empty teacup, feeling uncomfortable under Sirius’ worried gaze. 

“It matters if it matters to you,” the black-haired man decides in earnest, ladling stew into his mouth. Remus shrugs, a puzzled look crossing his face. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” he asks, daring to look at Sirius, who is still swallowing spoonfuls of stew. Sirius regards Remus with a soft look, mouth twisting into a smug grin. 

“I decided to like you,” he states simply. Remus nods then, refilling his teacup and staying silent. The room is warm and comfortable, his stomach is full of stew and tea, and the dungeons and terror of the rebellion’s disastrous end seem far away. Right now, it is Sirius and Remus, Remus and Sirius, and that is all that matters.


	5. Intertwined

Remus wakes to light streaming through large windows, and he has not felt this comfortable and at peace in a very, very long time. Somehow, he is warm all around, and his stomach is full, a first for Remus. Suddenly, a loud grunting noise startles Remus’ dream-like state, and the man jumps, shoving covers and blankets off of his now-freezing body. 

“What, did I scare you?” a voice says from Remus’ right, and it is only now that he remembers he is in Sirius Black’s room, sleeping in his bed. 

“Uh, no, I’m fine,” Remus nods, pulling the cover back over his bare body. 

“It’s cold, innit?” Sirius mumbles, burying further into the mattress and closer to Remus’ warm body. Remus feels his heart jump into his throat, and he is taken aback at his own sudden butterflies. 

“Do you want a shower?” Sirius asks then, poking his head up from the comforter and leaning it on Remus’ shoulder. Remus swallows hard and nods, saying, “yeah, actually, I’m a bit...dirty.” He knows this statement was a mistake as soon as he sees Sirius’ face break out into a suggestive grin. 

“Oh, you’re dirty, are you? I’d love to see that side of you,” the man muses, voice dripping in confidence. Remus rolls his eyes, pulling the covers off of his legs and watching as Sirius eyes grow droopy again, heavy with sleep. 

“Where’s the bathroom?” Remus asks, shivering. He watches as Sirius pokes an arm out of the bed, points to a door behind Remus, and grunts. Remus shuffles his way to the bathroom, closes the heavy black door behind him, and begins to shed his clothing, highly anticipating the luxury of hot water on his rough skin. 

Remus is slathering a generous amount of soap onto his skin when he hears the bathroom door open, and freezes immediately. 

“Hello?” he tries, hands still full of soap. A figure then rounds the corner, reaching the edge of the shower, where Remus stands absolutely stark naked. 

“Oh shit, I forgot you were in here!” Sirius shouts, slapping a hand over his face, making the muscles on his own bare chest ripple. In this moment, Remus decides to give Sirius Black a chance. A real chance. 

“Sirius?” Remus asks, beginning to find the whole situation absolutely hilarious. 

“Merlin, I’m sorry Remus, I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Sirius rambles, turning to back out of the room. Remus gulps, musters all of the bravery he possibly can, and seizes Sirius’ arm, effectively stopping the man. 

“Remus?” Sirius asks, suddenly feeling very powerless. 

“Take your clothes off,” Remus demands, crossing his arms over his chest and standing back to watch the show. Now, Sirius smirks, regaining his slightly cocky disposition. 

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Sirius shrugs, reaches into the waistband of his trousers, and tugs, revealing everything to the werewolf in front of him. Immediately, Remus’ mouth widens in shock, and his brown eyes trail over Sirius’ exposed body slowly, drinking in every inch of the tall man. 

“Like what you see?” Sirius says cockily. Remus simply smiles in return, and gestures Sirius to come closer. As soon as the royal is close to the shower, Remus grabs his defined arms and pulls, pressing his lips to Sirius’. Hard. 

“Finally,” Sirius grins against Remus’ lips. He has been craving the feeling of Remus’ lips on his own, and now that he has gotten what he wanted, he can feel a fire growing in the pit of his stomach. As Remus begins to trail his lips down to Sirius’ neck, Sirius wraps a hand around Remus’ cock, feeling the man immediately harden beneath his touch. 

“Fuck, Sirius,” Remus chokes out, never ceasing to place rough kisses down the side of Sirius’ neck. Sirius pumps Remus’ cock slowly, swiping his hand over the sensitive tip and feeling precum dribble out. Remus is under Sirius’ control now, and he knows it. At this moment, Sirius presses his hand to Remus’ neck and attacks his lips with a hunger he didn’t know he could feel. Remus is soon writhing beneath him, and Sirius moves his mouth to Remus’ ear, nibbling, sucking, and biting on the shell until the werewolf is nearly falling apart. 

“Sirius, you have to stop,” Remus whispers, wrapping an arm around Sirius’ torso to hold him still. Sirius’ eyes are dark and clouded over in lust, and Remus immediately finds himself sinking to the ground, ready to take Sirius apart. 

“May I?” he asks, kneeling in front of Sirius’ hard member. He’s big, and Remus is suddenly unsure if he can take all of Sirius into his mouth. When he nods his approval, however, Remus can’t refuse. Anyway, he’s never been one to back down from a challenge.   
As soon as Remus flicks his tongue out to taste Sirius’ precum on the head of his cock, Sirius is whining and pushing Remus’ head down, urging the man to take all of him into his mouth. Remus obliges, licking long stripes down the length of Sirius’ cock, stroking the base and making the man absolutely wild. 

“Oh fuck yes, Remus,” Sirius moans, pushing himself into Remus’ hot mouth. This, apparently, is all the encouragement Remus needed, and he is soon deepthroating Sirius’ cock, sucking hard on the tip and then lightly on the shaft itself, happy to be feeling all of Sirius in his mouth. 

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” Sirius whines, and Remus snickers to himself. Taking men apart is downright easy.   
Minutes later, Sirius is moaning obscenely and shooting cum down Remus’ throat, legs absolutely shaking in pleasure. 

“Well fuck me,” Sirius laughs, “you’re fucking incredible.” Remus grins, standing up to kiss Sirius. 

“Thank you,” he says in between kisses, pressing his own hard length against Sirius’ leg. The man reaches down and takes Remus’ cock into his hand, stroking hard until Remus is cumming hard, and is slumped against Sirius’ shoulder. 

“I think that may have been the best shower I’ve ever had,” Remus sighs, standing up to look at Sirius, who seems extremely taken off guard by this passionate statement. For a moment, Sirius looks as though he is going to say something, but then, he makes an odd gesture and grins awkwardly. Remus raises his eyebrows in questioning, breaking out into a laugh. 

“Did you just finger guns me?” he chokes out between laughs. 

“Maybe I did. What’s it to you?” Sirius defends, whacking Remus on the shoulder. 

“Honestly? Pretty appropriate, given the circumstance,” Remus shrugs, stepping past Sirius and wrapping a towel around his waist. 

“Damn right it is,” Sirius declares, “finger guns are good for every situation.” He shakes out his majestic black hair, throws it up into a bun, and walks casually out of the bathroom, still completely nude. Remus can’t help but smile to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys! Smut! I promised you, didn't I? ;) I admit, the end of the chapter is kinda just the product of me being tired, but you know what? Finger guns are great and SHOULD be used in any situation possible. 
> 
> New thing: The title of every chapter thus far has been inspired by a song, I tend to do that with any fanfiction. So, this one is "Intertwined" by Dodie Clark. She's a really cool British singer, and you should definitely check her out! 
> 
> I just realized I haven't posted this here yet, so my tumblr is siriuslysuperfruit.tumblr.com if you want to come say hi :) 
> 
> As always, credits go to TT at asktheboywholived.tumblr.com, so go follow them! Please remember to like it if you like it, if you like!! peace out homeskillets - S

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! Welcome to yet another fic wherein I am Wolfstar trash, what a surprise! All idea creds go to TT at asktheboywholived.tumblr.com, please check out their ridiculously cool RP's, and don't forget to like it if you like it, if you like! peace out homeskillets - S


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